


Just Like Old Times

by OmoTrashy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Friends, Coming In Pants, Frottage, Humiliation, Kink Discovery, M/M, Omorashi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Under-negotiated Kink, Wetting, intentional omorashi, intentional wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmoTrashy/pseuds/OmoTrashy
Summary: Raphael remembers some bad habits that Ignatz had when they were both kids. As they reminisce about it, Ignatz can't help but think that certain things might be fun to try again.The two of them discover that some things that were humiliating when they were children are fun now that they're both adults.
Relationships: Raphael Kirsten/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Just Like Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Warning:** This fic does mention instances of a character wetting himself as a child. The instances described are brief, and are written in a way that is not intended to be sexually provocative to the reader.  
> The fic also includes implications, in the context of fiction, about how certain childhood instances of the characters may have influenced their sexual fetishes as adults. This is written in reference to fictional characters, and it is not meant to imply that childhood experiences actually do have any influence on sexual preferences of real-world adults.  
> All sexual content, (including descriptive omorashi/wetting written with the intention of fetish fulfillment), occur when both characters are adults. 
> 
> If ANY mention of child characters in an explicit fic makes you uncomfortable, please proceed with caution or skip the fic entirely.

It was rare to finish an entire work of art in a day, and even rarer still to finish an entire work of art in one sitting. 

Still, Ignatz had at least hoped to finish his rough sketch before taking a break. As he continued trying and failing to get the shape of Raphael's chiseled jawline just right, he realized that despite his wishes, he probably was due for a break. He had to pee, and it was becoming a distraction. He was rushing through his work because of it, and growing agitated as he wasn't finishing his sketch as quickly as he thought he should. 

He set down his stick of graphite definitively and scooted out of his chair. "I'll be back in a minute. I need to use the washroom." He explained, somewhat apologetically, to his live art model. "Can I get anything for you while I'm up? You can take a break too, if you want to." 

"I'm good, thanks." Raphael said with a grin, chuckling softly to himself. 

Ignatz had his mind made up about leaving, but something about that chuckle stopped him. It wasn't cruel. It was good-natured, just like everything else Raphael said and did. There was just something about it that intrigued Ignatz, that made him stand with his hand hovering above the doorknob. He cocked his head over his shoulder and gave Raphael a curious look. "Alright, what's funny?" 

Something about Ignatz' question made Raphael clamp a hand over his mouth, poorly concealing sputtering laughs. It was as if knowing that he shouldn't laugh made the situation funnier to him. "Nothing. It's nothing. I just remembered something silly, from when we were kids." 

Ignatz' hand left the doorknob completely. He spun slowly on his heel, leaned back against the door, crossed his arms, and shot his friend a look of playful skepticism. "Okay, now I'm curious."

Raphael just shook his head, letting out one more snicker before his laughter tapered off. "No, it's- it's really just nothing. I dunno why I even remember it." 

Ignatz slowly walked back toward Raphael. Each step took him away from his goal, but he'd decided that he could wait a little longer for a break. He stood face-to-chest with Raphael, and looked up with a cloying smile at the man who was over a head taller than him. "You know, I remember something from when we were kids, too." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm-hm." Ignatz pursed his lips, accentuating each syllable. "I remember what I used to do about you teasing me." He walked back to where he'd been working and dug a paintbrush out of his supply bag. It was a large round brush, and he ran a fingertip over the bristles, feeling how fine and soft they were. "Raphael, are you still really ticklish?" 

"Don't you dare!" Raphael protested. He clutched his hands over his bare abdomen defensively and scooted across the room, putting preemptive distance between himself and Ignatz. "Look, I'll tell you, but it really is nothing much. If anything, it'll just make you mad." 

Despite the fact that he was still curious, Ignatz relented. He didn't want to push the subject if it was actually something upsetting. "It's alright. You don't have to tell me." He said, his voice soft and sinere. He put the paintbrush back in his bag, and held his hands up as an added peace offering.

Raphael sighed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "It's really no big deal. It's just… it really is just silly. The situation just made me remember it." He paused. Ignatz was ready to let the issue be, when Raphael continued on his own volition. "When we were kids, you'd get so wrapped up in your art that you’d sometimes forget to go to the bathroom. I remember one time, you were drawing a portrait of me, just like you are now. All of the sudden, you leapt up and announced that you had to go potty… as the front of your shorts were already getting soaked." 

Ignatz balked at Raphael. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. What _could_ he say to that? His mouth opened and closed around half-formed words, but he was too dumbfounded to form a legitimate sentence.

"I told you you'd get mad!" Raphael backpedaled.

"I'm not mad." Ignatz replied. He shook his head lightly, as if to clear his jumbled thoughts. “I’m just… baffled. Why do you remember something like that?” Ignatz understood that there was a difference between long-term memory and short-term memory, but he still found it odd that the man who could barely remember to bring the correct textbook to class when they’d attended the academy together could remember a random memory from their childhood, and in such vivid detail. 

Raphael shrugged. “I dunno. I remember a lot of stuff from when we were kids.”

“You remember other specific stories? Like what?” Ignatz prodded. 

Raphael thought for a moment. Ignatz did feel a bit bad for putting him on the spot like this, but like Raphael, all he was saying and doing was in good fun. After a moment, Raphael seemed to be struck by inspiration, and he spoke, “Oh, I’ve got one! Remember the time your parents were going to be gone a while on a trading trip, they thought you were too young to go, so they left you with my folks for a week? It was during the Verdant Rain Moon, and you were maybe ten or eleven? It rained the whole time you were there, and we could barely play outside. Remember?" Ignatz nodded, and Raphael continued. “Anyway, one night, there was a really bad thunderstorm. You were lying on a cot next to my bed, and I could hear you whimpering ‘cause you were scared. So, I told you to come lay in bed with me, and…” Raphael’s animated storytelling tapered off, and he sheepishly averted his gaze. 

As the long-forgotten memory painted itself in Ignatz’ mind, his cheeks grew crimson. “Raphael. That’s not the end of the story.” 

Ignatz watched as Raphael’s cheeks flushed pink, as if he'd only just remembered the rest of the story, too. “That’s right. You, uh, ended up wetting the bed that night.” 

Ignatz buried his face in his hands and groaned. “ _Why_ are you reminding me of all the times I wet myself as a child?”

“Hey, that’s not all the times!” Raphael added. Ignatz groaned again, and Raphael chuckled sheepishly, probably realizing that contribution didn’t help. “The only reason I keep remembering all that kind of stuff is because you took a break from drawing and excused yourself to the bathroom, and I thought about how Little Ignatz never would have done that. And then that memory… well, I guess it reminded me of all the other times.”

“You make it sound as if it’s something that happened a lot.” Ignatz said, somewhat miserably. 

“I mean--” Raphael snickered again, poorly concealed behind his hand. “--before we would go outside and play, my Ma would pull me aside and tell me, ‘Make sure Iggy gets to the potty in time.’”

“She did _not_.” Ignatz balked.

“And didn’t your parents always pack an extra pair of pants and undies for you? ‘Just in case’?” 

“Raphael…” Ignatz groaned, feeling utterly defeated. He hung his head in shame as his mind was flooded with embarrassing childhood memories. The feeling of humiliation didn’t sting, or drag his confidence down. Rather, it quickened his heart rate and made his lungs feel constricted in his chest. The feeling was exhilarating, and for some strange reason, it made him feel emboldened.The rational side of him told him that he should put the issue to rest, even though for some strange reason, part of him wanted Raphael to continue the onslaught of embarrassing stories. “That was a long time ago.” He said dismissively. 

“Guess it was, huh?” Raphael chuckled, shrugging. He seemed ready to let the subject go, and Ignatz thought he was in the clear, when Raphael spoke again. “Kinda cute how some things never change, though. Little Ignatz still has a little bladder.”

Ignatz’ heart felt like it was pounding in his throat, and each good-natured laugh from Raphael echoed in his ears and sent a pang of heat into his chest. 

“Uh, speaking of that, weren’t you going to go?” Raphael’s gaze trailed to the door. Ignatz followed his gaze. That was right, he’d intended to go to the bathroom, before all this had started. His bladder still felt full and heavy in his abdomen. Sitting back down and committing himself to his art would surely be torturous. 

Despite all reason and common sense, Ignatz sat back down before his easel and picked up his graphite with trembling hands. “I’ve taken a long enough break.” He said, his voice faint but decisive.

“Ignatz!” Raphael protested. He frowned, and his brow was knit with concern. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry I took it too far. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I know.” Ignatz smiled softly at Raphael. “I don’t feel like I have to prove anything. I was just… suddenly struck with inspiration.”

Raphael’s grumbles of protest fell silent. Perhaps as a result of Ignatz’ determination making itself apparent on his face? The silence allowed Ignatz the concentration to continue his work, and he brought his graphite to the canvas.

“Could you stand in the same place as before? And assume the same pose, please?” Ignatz reminded him, turning his easel around so Raphael could see it. His bladder ached as he shifted. He made a small noise in the back of his throat and crossed one leg over the other. It was a small measure to stave off the inevitable need for release. 

Raphael stayed fixed in one place, his gaze drawn almost hypnotically to Ignatz’ lap. Ignatz felt the need to squeeze his legs together under Raphael’s gaze. He waited a moment to see if his model would follow his instructions, but he seemed utterly distracted. He cleared his throat and tapped a finger against the canvas, snapping Raphael out of… whatever sort of daze he was in. 

“Right! Right.” Raphael exclaimed. There was a healthy flush to his face, and as he shuffled closer, Ignatz noticed an excited twinkle in his eyes. He glanced at the canvas and mimicked the pose Ignatz had roughly sketched. He lifted his fists proudly above his head, squared off his elbows, and flexed his biceps. He tightened his core as well, highlighting his well-defined abdominal muscles. It was Ignatz’ turn to be distracted, as he marveled at Raphael’s rippling abs, his toned obliques, and his _incredibly_ ample pectorals. The man was a work of art in his own sense, with a body that mirrored, no, _rivaled_ that of the mighty war heroes he’d seen in battle paintings. Ignatz was blessed to have such a magnificent subject to paint, and he did feel guilty that he didn’t currently have the capacity to give Raphael the full attention he deserved. 

_’I’ll finish the sketch. Then I’ll stop joking around, and I really will go to the bathroom.’_ Ignatz told himself. 

He turned the easel back toward him, wincing as he moved. His gaze flitted between Raphael and the canvas as he compared the two. “You had your right arm raised more, with your left arm lowered a bit.” He advised. Raphael followed his instruction, slowly shifting the position of his arms until he received an affirmative nod. “Good. Now, turn your head toward your right bicep, and curl your right fist inward, toward yourself. Just like before.” Raphael moved until Ignatz was satisfied, and Ignatz nodded again and set his mind to his art. 

He adjusted his position, opting to sit on his knees. He had more freedom to stretch himself and peer over the canvas at Raphael, and the position also allowed him to press his thighs together, and to bounce whenever his full bladder spasmed. Ignatz hissed through his teeth as he was overtaken with a particularly desperate spasm, and when he looked up, Raphael was staring at him again.

“Turn your head to the side, please.” Ignatz reminded him gently. Raphael obeyed, and held the pose. Ignatz was thankful that Raphael was holding still for him now, and he wished that he could do the same. He couldn't help but squirm and bounce as the pressure in his bladder refused to subside. Not that he could rationally expect the pressure to go away on his own. 

Speaking of rationality, or irrationality, for that matter, he wasn't sure _why_ he was holding out like this. As a child, his chances to paint were sparse. His parents didn't approve of his hobby, and the only time he could paint without fear of judgement or scolding was when he was certain they wouldn't catch him. He'd wanted to spend every precious free moment painting, which meant stubbornly refusing breaks, which inevitably led to the… humiliating accidents Raphael had described. As an adult, he had near-unlimited time to paint, so long as it didn't interfere with his duties as a soldier. There was no reason to put off going to the bathroom. His freedom to paint wasn't anywhere, and neither was Raphael. No, there was some other reason entirely that kept him rooted to his chair, and he couldn't put his finger on what it was. 

One thing was for certain; there was something about the way Raphael spoke of those memories that intrigued him. "I still don't get why you remember those stories. And in such detail, too." He muttered. 

To Raphael's credit, he held his pose, though the expression of bravado on his face did falter. "I-I dunno. Like I said, the stuff we were talkin' about just reminded me." 

"I know, I just wonder what it is about those memories that made them stick with you." Ignatz contemplated aloud. 

Raphael's confident mask crumbled completely, giving way to sheepish embarrassment. "Uh, honestly? I thought it was cute. It made me wanna take care of you." 

The raw honesty of Raphael's admission took Ignatz' breath away. Raphael thought he was… cute? There were many things that were cute: Raphael's kid sister, Maya. The cats and dogs around the monastery. The birds that flocked to Marianne. Was it really possible that Ignatz, as pathetic and awkward as he was, was among their ranks as something 'cute'? The possibility made him flush with embarrassment. 

With a dry mouth and a lump in his throat, Ignatz shakily asked, "Do you still think that I'm cute?" 

Raphael's face lit up, and he whipped his head around to look at him. "Of course! Super cute. No question about it." Raphael gazed at him, and Ignatz didn't even think to remind him of the pose. He could erase what he'd started and sketch Raphael looking at him head-on. If art was really the focus, anymore. 

A sharp pain in his bladder ripped his focus away from Raphael and had him doubling over and groaning. After a tense moment, the pain subsided enough for Ignatz to think about what Raphael had said. He took a deep breath and adjusted his position, moving to sit down properly. He crossed his legs tightly, as if locking his body down, hoping to gain a precious few minutes of control so he could focus on the conversation. 

"You know, seeing you all desperate and vulnerable like this makes me feel like I need to take care of you again. I wanna just scoop you up in my arms and tell you everything's gonna be okay." Raphael admitted, his face painted a brilliant rouge that Ignatz wished he had the clarity to capture on canvas. Ignatz trembled, and he wasn't sure if it was just from the effort of holding his bladder. 

One thing he did remember fondly from his childhood accidents was how Raphael was always so sweet to him afterwards. He would gently shush him until he stopped crying, and kindly reassure him that it was okay. He would then take Ignatz' hand into his larger one and lead him to go get cleaned up. It was so much more undivided attention than a timid, second-born son could hope to ask for, and Ignatz had never known how much he _craved_ that kind of attention until he'd received it. 

If he was being honest with himself, he still craved that kind of attention. He wanted to be doted on, and told that he was cute. If he had to resort to humiliating means to get that? Honestly, he'd enjoy that even more.

"I'm going to wet myself." Ignatz gasped suddenly. His abdomen positively _ached_ , and it was getting to the point where the pain of holding it outweighed the thrill. He uncrossed his legs, opting instead to ball his fists in the fabric of his pants and jiggle his legs. His intention was no longer to hold it until he took a bathroom break, but rather, to just hold it until the time was right to let go. 

His body was taut as a bowstring as he looked at Raphael expectantly, gauging his reaction. He'd taken a huge risk, and there was a chance that Raphael's fixation on the memories wasn't from fascination, like Ignatz suspected, but rather from a point of disgust. The man was watching him with narrowed eyes and taking sharp breaths through slightly parted lips. The blush on his face had spread down his neck and across his chest. His expression… looked intrigued, but was too ambiguous to be certain, so Ignatz looked to his body language for clues, instead. Raphael had abandoned the pretense of posing for a portrait. As Ignatz continued studying him, and his gaze flitted below the belt, he could see the beginnings of arousal through Raphael's training shorts. Well, that was certainly enough proof that he _wasn't_ disgusted. That was strangely reassuring, and it made Ignatz relax.

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone." Raphael encouraged him. His tone was equal parts comforting and suggestive, and it was all that Ignatz needed. 

Peeing his pants as a fully grown adult should not be as easy as it was. The first warm spurt gushed out effortlessly. Ignatz gasped, and his body instinctively tensed. He was able to override that instinct by reminding himself of how _badly_ he wanted to wet himself. He relaxed again, letting himself go. Warmth surrounded his cock as the stream soaked his underwear. The feeling made him close his eyes and sigh, and the sound was louder than he intended. 

The sound of wood scraping against wood caught his attention. It broke his focus, and his body instinctively tensed again. His eyes snapped open, and he caught Raphael carefully moving his easel to the side.

"Sorry. Wanted to get a better view." Raphael explained sheepishly. He spoke low and soft, as if he thought his usual volume would spook Ignatz in his current vulnerable state. Raphael's attention actually had the opposite effect on Ignatz; as Raphael moved forward to get a better view and gazed at him with nothing short of pure amazement, Ignatz' mind buzzed with excitement. Were he in any other situation, with anybody other than Raphael, he'd surely feel the need to shy away. However, while the situation was exhilarating, it was also strangely familiar, in a way that was almost comforting.

The warmth of Raphael's adoring, undivided attention unraveled Ignatz' remaining nerves, allowing his body to relax fully. Rather than coming out in timid spurts, the liquid flowed out of him freely. The front of his pants quickly became flooded in warmth. It spread across the expanse of his lap before trickling down his outer and inner thighs in hot tendrils, moving on to soak his bottom and forming a sensual pool of warmth in his chair. The puddle below him quickly grew to spill over the edge of the chair, and the sound of it pattering onto the floor joined the sound of his hissing stream dousing the layers of cloth that contained it. 

Ignatz arched his back and moaned, grinding himself down against the puddle he was making and reveling in the way his soaked pants squished against his skin. Peeing his pants felt _so good_ , a hundred times better than he remembered. The wet warmth on his skin felt better than a hot bath on a cold day, and the sensations of relief and release were better than an orgasm. He wished this sensation could last forever, and he felt a sense of loss when his bladder finally emptied itself. 

As Ignatz basked in the feeling of his wet pants and his empty bladder, he heard Raphael moving toward him. He cracked his eyes open and watched as the towering man lowered himself to his level. He knelt on the floor, not seeming to care that his knees dipped into the edge of the puddle. 

"That was _amazing_." Raphael gushed. His hands hovered above Ignatz' knees, and he stammered and struggled to form words. After a torturously long moment of silence, Raphael finally gained the boldness to ask, "Can I touch you?"

 _"Please."_ Ignatz breathed desperately as soon as Raphael got the words out. Raphael's hands rested on his thighs, trapping the warmth of the piss against his skin. As he squeezed and groped at him, the sodden fabric squished, and liquid seeped through the gaps between his fingers. His hands traveled up his thighs, eliciting a gasp and a full-body shudder when Raphael's touch grazed over his hard cock. His hands reached further back and grabbed his ass, squeezing at it with an enthusiasm that could almost be described as greedy. 

Raphael shifted even closer, close enough that their breath intermingled and Ignatz could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He moved to guide Ignatz' legs around his waist, then placed his hands back on his ass.

Ignatz squealed at Raphael suddenly stood up, hoisting Ignatz up with him. As his hands scrambled for purchase against Raphael's shoulders, Raphael laughed, causing his chest to thrum against his own. "Told you I wanted to scoop you up." He explained playfully. "This okay?" 

_'It's perfect.'_ Ignatz wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words to articulate just how impeccably perfect this really was. So he could only nod, his gaze flitting from Raphael's eyes to his lips, his heart racing with how close their faces were. 

Raphael seemed to follow his thought pattern. He tilted his head, and Ignatz' lips were covered in a warmth that was even more exhilarating than the warmth he'd felt just moments ago. He ran a hand through Raphael's thick hair, using the leverage to deepen the kiss. Raphael groaned low in his throat. He rolled his hips upward to rut against Ignatz, and Ignatz could feel his erection against him, hard and needy and _huge_. He thrust rapidly and desperately against Ignatz, quickening the pace until his face contorted with pleasure and he choked back a groan. Ignatz felt him shudder against him, felt that big cock of his jolt within the confines of his shorts. 

Ignatz stroked the side of Raphael's face as he basked in the pleasure of his own release. Tired as he probably was, his grip on Ignatz didn't falter. He held him tight and carried him steadily to the bed before gently setting him down. Ignatz briefly took in the sight of Raphael, his shorts wet with Ignatz' piss and with his own spend. Seconds later his view was obstructed as Raphael was on him again, pressing their lips together hungrily. His hands trailed downward, groping him through his wet clothes again. All the heat from earlier had evaporated, and Raphael's warm hand on him felt divine. 

"You're still hard." Raphael exhaled. His hand inched upward to trace the outline of his zipper. "Is it okay if I help you with that?" 

Ignatz wanted that; _oh Goddess above,_ how he wanted that. However, he was sure he was filthy right now, and didn't want Raphael to have to touch him while he was covered in piss. "You don't have to." He protested half-heartedly.

"Really? I don't mind, you know. I meant it when I said I wanted to take care of you." Raphael insisted. Ignatz let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and his lips curled into a smile as he timidly nodded.  
  
"Alright, then. Why don't you help me out of these wet clothes?"

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to shoot me requests/chat with me on CuriousCat!  
> https://curiouscat.qa/OmoTrashy


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